


Never see that face again

by melissmallfic



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4377296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melissmallfic/pseuds/melissmallfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the thousandth time that hour, Mickey wondered what the fuck he was doing at the Fairy Tail. He could tick the list of reasons off on his fingers again. Too cold for the park, too many weirdos hiding in bushes, too fucking strange to beat off to porn or bring someone home with his brother in the next room. But he’d been through them all already, enough was e-fucking-nough. He needed to get Ian out of his head and this was the only place he knew where to do it without freezing his balls off or getting stabbed in the throat.</p><p>On a slow night Mickey wasn’t tall enough to reach over the hordes of thirsty dudes looking to get a drink from the crowded bar. But tonight he also clearly wasn’t hot enough to get away with throwing elbows and pushing his way through either. It pissed him off to stand and wait, he’d never had to do that shit before, not with Ian sending waiters and free booze his way at a private table. Served him right for decided to finally scratch his itch on a weekend night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never see that face again

For the thousandth time that hour, Mickey wondered what the fuck he was doing at the Fairy Tail. He could tick the list of reasons off on his fingers again. Too cold for the park, too many weirdos hiding in bushes, too fucking strange to beat off to porn or bring someone home with his brother in the next room. But he’d been through them all already, enough was e-fucking-nough. He needed to get Ian out of his head and this was the only place he knew where to do it without freezing his balls off or getting stabbed in the throat.

On a slow night Mickey wasn’t tall enough to reach over the hordes of thirsty dudes looking to get a drink from the crowded bar. But tonight he also clearly wasn’t hot enough to get away with throwing elbows and pushing his way through either. It pissed him off to stand and wait, he’d never had to do that shit before, not with Ian sending waiters and free booze his way at a private table. Served him right for decided to finally scratch his itch on a weekend night.

“Need some help?” he heard a voice from behind him and froze. He closed his eyes reflexively and wished like a five-year-old in front of a birthday cake that it wasn’t his worst nightmare standing behind him.

But he turned around to see Ian standing behind him in all his sparkly-shorted glory. Ian was grinning at him, like the last time they’d seen each other he hadn’t turned his back as Sammi fired shots at Mickey like he was target practice. Bitch had grazed his arm and ruined his winter coat, but what really stung was Ian’s total indifference.

“No, I don’t need your fuckin’ help,” he said, turning back to the crowd in front of him. "Walk away, Gallagher. Only thing you’re fuckin’ good at.”

There was no response from behind him so for a second Mickey thought he got lucky and Ian was going to actually do what he asked. He should have known better.

“Ey, Danny!” he heard Ian shout, then felt him lean heavily over Mickey’s back and reach out one long arm to pound the bar. The bartender came right over, ignoring the outraged cried from all the guys who’d been waiting. “Get me a draft and two shots of whiskey.” The bartender nodded and walked away to make drinks, getting more shouts as he did.

Mickey tried to ignore the way Ian was still draped over him. He should have been turned off by how wet Ian was, and covered as usual in glitter and in his own and other people’s sweat. He tried to be subtle about taking a deep breath, to get a whiff of Ian before he found his balls again and walked away.

“How’s your night going?” Ian whispered in his ear. 

Mickey felt his blood pressure go from zero to sixty. Or, to be honest, sixty to about three hundred. He slammed his elbow back into Ian’s stomach and pushed hard on his shoulder as he bent in half, sending him tumbling backwards, landing on his ass on the ground. The crowd at the bar parted fast.

“Fuck you!” Mickey screamed, crouching down to point his finger in Ian’s face. “You don’t say a fuckin’ word to me.”

Ian just grinned up at him, relaxing back with his hands behind him. He was breathing hard from the hit, but looked like he was pretty much feeling no pain. Probably on something, definitely not what he should be taking. Mickey shook his head and straightened back up.

He turned to the bar, where the bartender had his beer in one hand and two shots in the other, looking unsure what to do. Mickey stepped up and grabbed all three. “Put it on his fucking tab,” he growled, shouldering his way past the guys who’d tentatively stepped back up to order. He deliberately walked right past Ian without looking, Ian pulling back his hand right before Mickey could step on it with all his weight. 

There were two sad, nervous-looking guys hiding out at a table by the bathroom, sucking on girly drinks with chewed up straws. Mickey glared at them for barely a second before they scrambled off. He set his drinks down on the table and slammed back one shot before sucking down half his beer. He wanted to get fucked up, but he also doubted he’d be able to hit the bar again. He just needed to get enough liquid courage to find the most acceptable guy to fuck and then high-tail it out of there. 

A waiter in a sequined tank top walked up to him and grabbed the empty shot glass off his table, replacing it with another beer and two more shots, both colors that couldn’t be found in nature.

“The fuck is this?” he said.

“From Curtis,” the guy said, shrugging. “You want something else?”

Mickey looked over the guy’s shoulder to try to spot Ian, but with no luck. He shook his head and the waiter disappeared back into the crowd. Mickey finished his beer quickly, eyeing the neon liquids on the table warily.

The green one tasted like melon and lemon, too sweet and somehow medicinal. He half-gagged and downed some of his free beer to wash the taste out, then slammed back the whiskey for good measure. He picked up the bright blue one that looked like the sky on acid and stared at it. He was starting to feel the drinks out of nowhere, half his brain telling him to put the shot down and the other half wondering where Ian could be.

“That one reminds me of your eyes,” a voice said into his ear. He nearly dropped the shot he was so startled. Then Ian appeared in front of him, smooth as silk and smirking at him. 

“You put something in this?”

Ian laughed and it sounded slightly unhinged, or maybe that was just wishful thinking. The only way he’d been dealing with getting his heart run through a meat grinder was by telling himself on repeat that Ian had lost his fucking mind. 

“A mickey for Mickey?” Ian shook his head. “Nope. Tastes like watermelon though. I know you like ‘em sweet.”

Mickey rolled his eyes and threw the shot back. It did taste surprisingly like watermelon, albeit totally artificial. It was the middle of fuckin’ winter after all. Not like the Fairy Tail was making its money off of fresh-squeezed juice in their cocktails.

He expected Ian to have disappeared when he was done drinking, but he was still standing there, one hand on Mickey’s table, the other on his hip. He still looked skinny, but also like he’d been working out again. Fuck, maybe he was juicing. 

“The fuck are you looking at?”

Ian turned his head and laughed. “Remember when you asked me that before?”

Mickey felt his face screw up in thought. Thinking was getting harder by the second. He shrugged and grabbed his beer, taking a long pull. “No.”

“Was trying to see if you liked me. Couldn’t tell at the time.”

Something in Mickey’s chest twisted. He hated all the time he wasted pretending Ian didn’t mean anything to him. The guilt ate him up inside, made him think he deserved the brief happiness he’d been given. 

“Fuck off, Gallagher.”

“That what you’re looking for tonight, Mick? To get the fuck off?” He slid his hand along the tabletop until just the tips of his fingers grazed Mickey’s. Mickey blamed his delayed reaction on all the neon booze, but he pulled his hand back like he’d been burned after a few seconds.

“Not with you.”

Ian nodded, smiling widely, like he didn’t believe Mickey for a second. He looked around the club. “I can help, if you want. I know everybody.”

“I bet you fucking do.”

“Slut-shaming me won’t get ya laid, Mick.” Before Mickey could react to the nickname, Ian had turned around to survey the room. “What are you in the mood for tonight? Look-a-like or polar opposite? Fuck the memory right out of you?” He turned back to look at Mickey. Mickey wasn’t sure what Ian saw on his face, but he looked almost sad for a second. “Look-a-like it is. Be right back.”

Once again Mickey’s senses were too dulled to respond. He watched Ian glide effortlessly into the crowd. All he could do was stand dumbly by himself and wait. He barely noticed the waiter return and replace his drinks again, whiskey shots this time. He drank one and was contemplating the second when a skinny guy with strawberry blond hair and a face full of freckles was standing in front of him. He had a sky blue tank top on, showing pale arms wiry with muscles. He was an inch or two shorter than Ian, and his eyes were dark brown, but Mickey was even drunker than he thought since he immediately reached for the guy’s belt loops to pull him close.

The guy smirked at him like a shark, and the deep voice in Mickey’s ear was surprising. “Eager, aren’t you?”

Mickey rolled his eyes and grabbed the guy by the back of his stupid faux-hawk and pulled him in for a harsh kiss. He didn’t taste half bad, like mint and rum, and if Mickey closed his eyes he could pretend the long fingers snaking up the back of his shirt belonged to someone else. He gasped into the guy’s mouth when he pushed his hips against Mickey’s. His eyes opened involuntarily and even with alcohol blurring his vision, he could see Ian standing twenty feet away, watching him. Mickey hoped against hope that the look on his face was jealousy, but knew that was wishful thinking.

He closed his eyes again and cupped the fairly impressive hard-on that was currently being pressed against him. The guy moaned in response and fucked Mickey’s mouth with his tongue sloppily. Mickey pulled back and ignored the way the guy sort of chased him.

“There somewhere we can fuck in this shithole?”

The guy nodded and grabbed Mickey by the wrist, pulling him towards the back of the club. He tried to resist the urge to look back, but in the end couldn’t, wanting to see what Ian looked like now.

When Mickey didn’t see him, he tried to blame it on the thickness of the crowd.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken, seemingly as always, from a song by Mr. Twin Sister, "Out of the Dark."
> 
> And once again, I don't know where the fuck this came from!
> 
> Tumble with me at onlysmallfic.tumblr.com


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